Two Sons
by Molly4
Summary: Post-finale fic. Kirsten watches her two sons.


Post-finale. If you want the explanation of Seth's return, read "Behavioral Health" and "Session." You don't have to read them to understand this story, but parts of Seth's return are referenced.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. It all belongs to Josh Schwartz and company.

Rating: PG-13, for some violence, some bad words.

Two Sons

By: Molly4

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"...Are you sure? I mean, I don't want him to get mad at me..okay...yeah, okay...fine, I won't tell him..."

Seth's back is to him and he's talking quietly into his cell phone, but Ryan picks up every word. He dips his sponge into soapy water and pretends he doesn't notice Seth glancing over his shoulder, pretends that he is scrubbing hard on the Range Rover's muddy windshield, pretends like he isn't holding his breath until Seth speaks again.

"Yeah...okay..just get here soon okay?...All right...bye..what?...yeah, uh..." Seth glances back again but Ryan is working dutifully. "I, uh, I love you too."

Ah, so it's Sandy, Ryan notes as he bends down to wipe the grimy underside of the vehicle. Sandy tends to end every phone call, no matter how brief, with a quick "I love you" and always expects a quick return of affection from whoever is on the other end. Ryan had gradually gotten used to it, though he's still a little slow on the reciprocation.

Ryan hears Seth shove the phone into his pocket, cursing under his breath. Ryan stands up to his full height, tossing his sponge onto the ground.

"Shirking your duties again?" Ryan asks, going for light teasing, but he is not oblivious to the edge in his own voice.

Seth whirls around, his face the epitome of a deer caught in the headlights. He swallows.

"Kirsten said we both had to wash the car." Ryan crosses his arms and smirks. "All I've seen you do is go diving for quarters between the seats and talk on the phone."

The car washing had been Kirsten's idea, a little way of brotherly bonding now that she'd done everything short of blackmail to get Ryan back in Newport. Two days after he came back, Sandy brought Seth back from the hospital, and they were slowly putting their lives back together.

"Well, you know me and my delicate skin. I mean, what would all the girls think if I showed up at school with dishpan hands? No prom invites for this guy, no siree. Well, actually, now that Summer and I have made our tentative foray back into the world of dating, I might have a date all lined up." Seth rubs at his chin. "Plus, there's always the option of gloves. Really cool white gloves. Or is that a bit too minty?" He pauses. "Oh, and hey, I also commandeered the Kirsten's keys so we could have some tunes while we worked."

Seth's babbling is a little more frantic than usual, Ryan notes. It has been since they were reunited, but Ryan has been prepared for that. Sandy and Kirsten had given him the complete pre-hospital release lecture about being sensitive, giving Seth some space, not pushing him to talk about his therapy if he didn't feel like it. It was almost laughable: telling someone not to push Seth into talking. But Ryan nodded and looked concerned and vowed to give Seth some time. And he has.

"Just get to work." Ryan reaches into the bucket and throws Seth the first sponge that he comes into contact with. He smiles a little, shakes his head, letting Seth know that he is expressing amused exasperation, not real anger. He's being sensitive.

Seth begins scrubbing his side of the car with unmatched vigor, his head bent over his work; his face mere inches from the hood of the car. His aim is only to please.

The boys work in silence for a few minutes. Seth steps back slightly while Ryan aims the hose at the car. They watch in silence as the water slides off of the car and makes puddles on the driveway.

Ryan is the first to speak.

"So what aren't you supposed to tell me?"

The sponge falls out of Seth's hand, and he jumps slightly. His attempts to regain control and keep cool are feeble. He doesn't like lying to Ryan, especially now that he's only just got him back in his life.

"Wha-what are you talking about?" he asks, scratching the back of his head and biting his lip.

A harsh bark of laughter escapes Ryan's lips.

"I heard you over there." Ryan points to a random spot on the driveway, in the general vicinity of where Seth had been standing. "Talking to your dad, right?"

Seth shrugs, tries to look nonchalant, but Ryan's not fooled. Seth can bullshit a person while staring directly into their eyes, but not Ryan.

"Yeah, I was talking to my dad." Seth's eye twitches ever-so-slightly. "He'll be home soon. If you need to talk to him, you can talk to him then." He takes a few steps back, looking nervous.

Now Ryan knows something is wrong. He runs an angry hand through his hair, mind racing. And inevitably, it comes back to the simple fact: Seth knows what's happening, and he doesn't. Seth is his friend. Seth will tell him.

"What's going on? What did he tell you?" Ryan can't help the irritation in his voice. It's usually not that difficult to extract information from Seth.

Seth stumbles backwards a little, sways, and then rights himself again. His breathing is uneven and his shoulders tremble a little.

It dawns on Ryan that Seth is afraid of him for some reason, afraid because of whatever Sandy told him over the phone. Though he knows that his foster brother is at his most vulnerable now, fresh from the hospital, going to weekly therapy sessions, he also knows that he can use this to his advantage and maybe find out what the hell is going on around him.

"Come on, man." Ryan's voice is softer now, pleading, trying one last time to get the information he needs in a calm manner.

"I'm not supposed to tell you," Seth says feebly, bowing his head. "Just wait for my dad to get home, okay?"

"Seth," Ryan growls. He stops. "Is it Theresa?" Suddenly, he forgets his angry act, forgets intimidating Seth. All he can think about is Theresa and the baby. For the tenth time that week, he wishes he'd never left.

The guilty expression on Seth's face tells Ryan that he's right. Something is wrong with Theresa.

"Give me the keys," Ryan orders, his blood beginning to boil.

Seth's head snaps up and he waves his hands around in a no-no-no motion.

"Look, she'll be fine. Eddie just gave her a little scare. She's not hurt. That's what my dad said." Seth looks at Ryan imploringly. "She's safe now. With some guy named Jake. Dad said he'll take you down to visit her. He even left work early."

Ryan closes his eyes. He never should have left. He should have known Eddie couldn't stay away- God, he never could. This was entirely his fault. Theresa should be with him now. He could protect her from Eddie, protect her from everything. He needed to be with her.

Plus, he needed to beat the shit out of Eddie.

Looking up at Seth, seeing his concerned and scared face, Ryan knows what he has to do. He holds out his hand, his expression grim.

"Give me the keys, Seth," he demands, not a trace of patience in his voice. He is not about to wait for Sandy to come home. Eddie could get to her by then. He shouldn't have even left her to begin with.

"I-I can't do that." There's a slight quiver in Seth's chin. "You have to stop and think. I know you. You're going to go down there and you're going to go after Eddie." Seth's eyes bulge, pleading with Ryan. "That's not going to help anything. You just need to cool off. Wait for my dad. Everything is okay. He says he'll find a safer place for Theresa to stay, maybe even here. You just have to wait for him."

"She needs me," Ryan growls, taking a step closer to Seth, who subsequently takes four or five stumbled steps backward.

"Ryan...you can't save her just because you want to." Seth puts a tentative hand on Ryan's shoulder. "It doesn't work like that. You just have to let my dad handle this. He knows what he's doing."  
  
Ryan shoves Seth's hand off of him. Sandy doesn't know anything. He doesn't know Chino or Eddie or Theresa, or the stuff that happens when everything's "fine."

"Give me the keys." This time Ryan's practically screaming now, desperate to fix what he's sure he's broken.

"My dad said to wait for him," Seth says in low, soothing voice.

Ryan wonders where Seth picked up his new calming babies tone. Maybe it's all that fucking therapy. He takes a few steps closer to Seth until Seth's back is up against the garage and Ryan's face is inches from his.

"So, what'd he call you for? Are you supposed to baby-sit me, make sure I don't answer the phone, make sure I don't run off and hurt someone?" Ryan's teeth are gritted and he can't remember ever being madder in his life.

Seth looks at his shoes. "Ryan, you're my best friend." There's that honesty again, no reservations at sharing that sentiment even when Ryan is in his face and angry. "But I know what you'll do there. You could get hurt. You could do something stupid." He looks directly into Ryan's eyes, watery brown meeting frigid blue. "We could lose you again."

Something inside of Ryan snaps. He needs to get to Theresa and now. Before he even knows what he's doing he's got Seth by the neck of his shirt and two feet off the ground. The back of Seth's head makes a loud noise as it connects with the garage door.

"Give me the keys, Seth. Right now. No more bullshit," Ryan spits.

Seth's hand fumbles into the pocket of his jeans. His face crumples a little and he coughs as he finally pulls out the desired keys.

Ryan reaches out his free hand, palm upward. His fingers close around the keys as soon as they hit his skin, giving Seth no time to try anything. His other hand releases Seth, and he's halfway into the Range Rover when he finally hears Seth speak.

"You don't have to do something about everything, Ryan."

He looks so tiny there, with his back up against the garage, his head in his hands. Ryan wonders as he jams the key into the ignition if he really hurt him. He never wants to cause Seth any harm, but sometimes he just gets in the way. Like now.

Ryan backs the car out of the driveway, eyes never leaving Seth. He wishes he'd asked Seth what the hospital was like, because honestly, he wants to know. He wants to know what is so special about him that would make Seth run away, that would make Sandy think his son was suicidal, that would make Kirsten break down. He's never been worth that to anyone. He knows deep down that he isn't worth all of that.

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Kirsten watches from the window, watches Ryan drive away, watches Seth hug his knees to his chest and look lost. Part of her wants to go outside and make sure Seth is okay, but something inside of her just won't let her move.

She'd gotten the call too, had hung up the phone just in time to see her son being thrown against the garage door. She'd known instantly what the fight was about. She didn't know which side to take. She wants to stop him, wait for Sandy to sort out this mess but she knows deep down that she can't.

What Kirsten does know is that she will have a serious talk with Ryan about physically attacking her son just because he's not getting his way. His heart is pure, his intentions are good, but sometimes he just doesn't realize the consequences of his actions.

The urge to hold Seth close to her and kiss all of his boo-boos—both physical and emotional— away is strong, but she doesn't know what to say to him to make sense of their lives, and her kisses don't mean shit without something to back them up. He's not three anymore, and it's no longer scraped knees that make him bleed and cry and hurt.

Kirsten thinks of Ryan, wonder if anyone ever held him close. Sometimes she thinks she might want to. Sometimes he looks so young and afraid, so out of place and out of touch, so damned afraid to speak, that Kirsten wants to rock him in her arms until he could finally feel safe.

But her boys are too big for that.

Sandy appears out of nowhere, runs and bends down next to Seth.

Seth starts talking rapidly, his hands moving through the air at great speeds.

Kirsten watches, sees Sandy touch the back of Seth's head, looking concerned. Seth attempts to suppress a wince and fails miserably.

He's not telling on Ryan. Kirsten knows this with a deep certainty. He's making up some wild story about tripping over the hose or attempting to duplicate some move he saw an Olympic gymnast do. He's covering for Ryan. In a similar situation, Ryan would be doing the same for Seth. They're brothers.

They're her two sons. They fit together perfectly at times. They balance each other out, have fun together. Seth makes Ryan talk, Ryan makes Seth slow down.

But that doesn't change the fact that her two sons are very different, that they are both looking for different things in each other.

Kirsten knows what will happen when Ryan gets home, when Sandy brings him back or Theresa shoos him away. Seth will forgive him thirty seconds before Ryan begins his apology. Ryan will try to explain, but Seth will forgive him again and again until they're playing video games well into the night. It doesn't matter if Seth is angry or not, he will not let Ryan think that he is anything less than the perfect best friend. That's what Seth wants him to be.

Kirsten has two sons. One has a hero complex, and one is just looking for a hero.

finis


End file.
